The Way of the Warrior
by Catalina Storm
Summary: A wanderer from the north brings with him and curious sword and a tragic tale . . . but all that may become moot as his mortal enemy resurfaces once more . . .


The Way of the Warrior  
  
Disclaimer: Redwall and all associated indicia belong to the wonderful Brian Jacques. The Knights of Donte, as well as a couple of characters are all mine.  
  
Author's Notes and Whatnot: This is easily the oldest story I have ever written, updated yet again. This was my first justifiable piece of fanfiction, although I had not even heard the term before when I was writing it. The original story is just strannnnge as all get out, involving time travel and paradoxes and other weird and messed up stuff. Of course, it all came out of the mind of a seventh grader, so there's good reason for that. However, just like The Blue Sky Chronicles, the characters have remained the same . . . their qualities and morals and everything about them has remained consistent, despite the fact that with each rewrite, the story reaches back into the roots of Redwall with just a bit of a Tolkien flair. Anyway . . . on with the story!  
  
  
  
Those who are of nimble paw  
  
With eyes as sharp as shale  
  
Rare is truth, but what they saw  
  
Is indeed a warrior's tale.  
  
From the dark rose-colored stones  
  
Four sentinels, away!  
  
Beware the dark, but not bemoan  
  
Or in eternal slumber stay.  
  
Jagged teeth cut on the sheep  
  
Where Lords of Dark do dance  
  
The crystal waters, deny the deep  
  
Tary not, or take thy chance.  
  
Part ways here, and take thy leave  
  
Say hearken, and make haste  
  
Run, not walk, through lands forsaken  
  
Or thoust will e're be chased.  
  
Those who live to tell the tale  
  
Of warriors, bold and true.  
  
Roving o're hill and dale  
  
What valiant things to do!  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
The sun shone down brightly upon the small village. The streets were full of children playing, chasing each other and sometimes their own tails. The stranger was even given a second glance as he skirted some enthusiastic mice and continued deeper into the town.  
  
Clad in a brown travelling cloak over a simple tunic and trousers, the mouse didn't look all that intimidating to begin with. The sword slung at his side didn't increase his intimidation factor at all; in fact the smile on his face made him look downright genteel.  
  
It was a fine spring day, the first of the season, and the children were out in force. This didn't make the stranger hesitate in the slightest; in fact he often stopped to help some of the younger ones out, retrieving playthings that had ended up on the thatched rooftops.  
  
Finally, the mouse arrived at his destination, an old tavern that was settled comfortably at the center of town. Pausing for a moment to admire the worn storefront and old hanging sign, he bobbed his head then pushed open the heavy wood door.  
  
The tavern was only about half-full, and a cursory glance of the interior showed that there was no one there that the mouse even faintly recognized. He took a seat at a table and leaned back against the wall, providing a good view of the entire tavern and all that went on there.  
  
Not too long after he arrived, the tavern began to fill up with the early afternoon patrons. Any questions that the regulars had about the stranger were soon forgotten in rounds of ale and beer.  
  
He sat there for quite a while, content to watch the goings-on of the tavern. Then, a rat straggled in, quite obviously drunk from another tavern. He staggered over to the only empty seat, the one across from the strange mouse. "'Ey," the rat slurred, peering at the mouse. "Yer new, ain't'cha?"  
  
"Aye," the mouse said, not raising his eyes nor looking beyond the headfur that hung over his eyes. "I'm a wanderer, just passing through."  
  
"A wanderer, eh?" the rat exclaimed, then hiccuped. "Yew don't get many o'them 'round here ... mainly those crazy knoights from Donte passin' threw an' makin' all sorts' o'crazy demands."  
  
"You get Knights of Donte?" The mouse's eyes flicked up, piercing the rat.  
  
"Aye, all th' toime, matey. In fact, there's one stuck-up ol' bastard stayin' at the Inn across the way . . ." the rat giggled and hiccuped again. "Tha's why oi left . . . too much whiny-gaggin' for me!"  
  
The mouse stood abruptly, throwing a few coins next to the half-empty mug he had been nursing. "Thank you for the information," he said, giving the rat a few coins as well.  
  
"Aye, no pr'blem, mate," the rat said, staring oddly at the mouse. "Are yew a knoight, too?"  
  
"No," the mouse said softly, then passed the rat in a flurry of brown cloak. "Nothing more than a wanderer." 


End file.
